life in a foreign land

Tag: Children

Post navigation

Today, 18 December, 2017, we returned, once again, to ‘the Grove’, this most challenging of the ad-hoc Syrian refugee field worker encampments that we visit. On this expedition, we endeavoured to be ‘smarter’ than in the past and to try and hopefully, to avoid some of the most egregious problems we have previously encountered.

Indeed, this is the only encampment where we have experienced the theft of a bag of foodstuffs off the back of the lorry.

As this occurred whilst the lorry was reversing and to hinder a repetition of that theft, on this outing, we arranged that I would be reversing the van and the lorry would be set up to drive straight off at the conclusion of our time here. The lorry would do no reversing in this encampment.

Additionally, we normally travel past this encampment on our way to a more distant encampment, and visit this encampment on our return, they know we are coming and they are ready for us… maybe too ready.

We felt that denying them this advanced notice may make the encampment more manageable. Therefore, we drove the back way, a much longer route, to the furthest encampment. On completion of that encampment we just arrived at ‘the Grove’ with no forewarning.

‘The Grove’ is also the encampment where we have tried, and sadly, failed to fully distribute the special treats that have been provided for the children.

However, we are still endeavouring to bless the children and give them these special treats. As the former method had consistently floundered on the rocks of this tumultuous encampment, this time we introduced a new method – just for them. Here we would include the special treats bundled together with, and at the same time, as we provided foodstuffs, pads and where appropriate, nappies and milk. This is not as nice a method, and you can never be certain that the children will actually get the treats – the mums very well may consume the treats themselves, or they may favour one child over another.

Applying this special method, just for this encampment, we strove to ensure that every child on the system had their treat given with the foodstuffs. A side benefit of this method here was the Team was not besieged by an unruly mob or, at times, nearly rabid rabble of children. Oh, and additionally there were no attempts by the children to gain forced entry to the vehicle with a view of pillaging the store of treats.

As we seek to serve this particular encampment, we try to work with the realities on the ground and still accomplish our goals.

Whilst we were processing the various inhabitants from one side of our ‘working zone’, I noted two wee boys, on the opposite side. Both lads were under six years of age. The one boy, slightly taller, suddenly grappled with the other in an obvious attempt to simply inflict pain. This was not rough-housing, nor play fighting, he was going for blood. He was squeezing, punching and twisting to make as much pain for the other child as he physically could.

Before I could intervene, they broke off their clinch. Not a sound was emitted by either.

However, after I turned my back, the victim of the earlier encounter, the smaller boy who had been assaulted, turned and forcefully grabbed his former assailant by the head and drove him vigorously, face first towards the side of the van. Before I knew what was happening, there was the sound of the impact of his face coming into a forceful encounter with the van.

Once again no sound was forthcoming and they broke off their hostilities and scattered.

This really is a very dark, a very sad encampment. Harshness, casual violence, shouting, thrusting, jockeying, striving, grasping for advancement is the norm within this gathering of souls.

And it is in this encampment where a young bride whom we encountered a year previously – she married at 14 years of age – still a child herself, now resides. It is in this harsh and unwelcoming encampment that she dwells with her equally young husband and their baby girl. One of the members of our American team was touched by her plight and purchased some baby things for her and her child. The American, herself, a pregnant mum, wanted to help her and to ‘visit with her’ – the only impediment being she speaks no Arabic and the wee child-bride-new mum speaks no English.

Nevertheless, they spent the majority of the time we were in this encampment, ‘visiting’. Sometimes it is remarkable the degree of communication that can transpire in spite of lacking a common language.

At the end of the day, if any place needs to see light, needs to be exposed to a better way, needs to see love and grace and patience and perseverance, it is this place.

Twice a year is carrot season, the spring and winter. This photo is from the spring harvest.

Many of the inhabitants were away in the fields working – this is the season for pulling carrots from the muddy soil – and so on arrival we were not confronted with as large a mob as on our previous encounter. Also, neither of the two, rather problematic, rapacious gang-masters were present. And so on this occasion, our distribution was a bit more manageable and a little less chaotic.

Mind you, the formidable ladies still seemed to think the most effective means to communicate with us, even those of us who speak no Arabic, was to shout emphatically at us – in Arabic – vigorously gesturing all the while.

Nope… absolutely no comprehension on our part.

When we thought we were done… we were not rushing to leave, we wanted to make sure we saw all who were to be seen, but, quietly we were thankful that it seemed to be finished…

… a minibus flew up and skidded to an abrupt halt near our vehicles positioned at the entrance to this encampment… it was transporting some of the missing inhabitants from the fields where they were labouring….

It is known that on our arrival to an encampment we will leave the provision with an immediate member of the ‘registered’ family – but if there is no one from the family present, we leave nothing.

And so, on the arrival of these late-comers, the work carried on…

When, finally, we had worked our way through these belated individuals, we were confronted with a small gaggle of various ones who were presenting to be registered and to receive some foodstuffs.

It has been our experience over the course of the three years we have been engaged in this activity, that at the end of our time at an encampment, that the chancers, the charlatans, the liars come out – and oh, mixed up amongst them can be bonafide late-comers or honestly unregistered new-comers.

Within this cohort was one individual we had dealt with on our previous encounter. Nothing had changed in his circumstance, and no, we were not about to give him anything. On our previous encounter it was determined that whilst he is living alone, and he waits for his family to join him – which he believes will happen at some time in the future, he is, in the meantime, eating from the kitchen of a relative, and on checking the number of people in that family, they were already in possession of the extra needed to feed him. Nevertheless, he keeps trying it on…

Then there were others who presented, but claim they do not have any ID. This is possible – just. But the whole picture taken together, it was unconvincing to me at least.

They were presenting in this context of misrepresentation, dubious presentations, and these two, who were claiming to be four individuals staying together, but there were only two before us, and they were young men with no ID – Turkish or Syrian.

Again, I was feeling unconvinced…

The lack of any ID is hard to accept in this part of the world where everyone has some form of ID – with the very rare exceptions of those who have just fled a disaster. These young men were claiming not to have Turkish ID, fully understandable, but they must surely have their ever-essential Syrian ID.

Grace would have even to give them a bag of foodstuffs – but, unfortunately, I was not feeling very gracious at that point in time.

At a different encampment, or earlier in our time there, I very well may have been more gracious in my response….

Methinks, there be a lesson in here for me… grace over all…

We departed…

From ‘the Grove’ we made our way over to an encampment we have named ‘Isken-1’.

This encampment also looks to be wintering in the fields like ‘the Grove’.

But this is a very different encampment.

There are 185 people registered in this encampment with 59 children between two and ten years of age and 36 babies – which means that fully half the encampment is under ten years of age.

On our arrival, down the poor field road, the sun was pleasantly shining. Vibrant, young, green grass has grown among the multitude of stones in the fields beside the encampment. This vista provided a delightfully rich, captivating and verdant background. The weather was warm. But, most importantly, these Syrian refugee field workers are very different in attitude and behaviour to those in ‘the Grove’.

Here they stand around, in a pleasant cluster, in a non-threatening, patient manner, waiting their turn. There is no shouting, gesticulating, shoving, intimidation or ruckus behaviour by demanding adults crowding in on the zone where the team is working.

The children are, well, everywhere. They are, by and large, clean and clean-conscious. There are no adults driving the children back with sticks – so unlike ‘the Grove’.

The children are friendly and cleaner than you would expect for people living without adequate washing facilities.

I moved away from the vehicles and the crowd and began tossing the children up in the air. They loved it. A small cluster gathered around me asking for ‘their turn’.

Then two young men came towards us, animatedly speaking and gesturing at us in Arabic, which I do not understand. But one word they kept repeating was ‘haram’ which is the same in Arabic and Turkish meaning ‘sinful’, ‘forbidden’,‘unlawful’.

I thought, is it ‘haram’ to toss children in the air? Am I doing something offensive? Am I, inadvertently, doing something wrong?

I speak Turkish. They speak Arabic.

But, with their descriptive chatter, and hand gestures, I began to get an inclination of what they were saying.

I called our bi-lingual minder over and asked him to enlighten me.

It was just as I was beginning to suss out. They were concerned that I, a white beard, an older gentleman, was tossing children in the air… a vigorous and demanding action. They felt and feared that I may do myself an injury in the effort. It was, in their view, ‘haram’ for the children to be asking to be so entertained and played with.

They were merely concerned for the ‘old man’.

Later in the distribution and this was the last encampment of the day, actually of the year… the next distribution is planned for 2 January 2018, I mounted the lorry and moved a number of bags from the front to the back of the lorry to be ready for distribution.

A couple of the children were by the lorry, and I lifted them up into the lorry – they really enjoyed being inside the ‘forbidden zone’.

As I was moving the bags, they too, spontaneously begin moving the bags… mind you the bags are disproportionately large and heavy for them to move, but with all their effort, they would tug, pull and cajole the bags towards the back of the lorry.

They were being helpful, without being asked.

When it came time to alight from the lorry, I called them, in Turkish, I do not know Arabic and they, in truth, do not know Turkish, but they understood. They came and were happy to be lifted down – out of the desired, prized location. No resistance, no demanding to remain there, they quickly and happily acquiesced to my request.

Later, when it came time to move the rest of the bags to the back of the lorry, a young Syrian refugee mounted the lorry and shifted all the remaining bags forward. No one asked him to, he saw the need, and jumped in to do it.

He was being helpful. There was nothing extra in it for him.

This is so unlike ‘the Grove’.

In ‘the Grove’, the van is always locked and there is no way we could trust anyone up on the lorry. Sometimes the young lads have offered to assist… but always and obviously with an eye some the reward they expected to gain for doing so…

Here in ‘Isken-1’ the van remains unlocked and help is welcomed in the lorry.

Two children were holding my hands, and we were walking beside the lorry. There was some mud to one side, and the person on my left accidentally stepped in the mud. Her sandal and toes were soiled with mud.

She immediately stopped, got a piece of paper and commenced throughly cleaning her footwear, and then her toes. She is aware and striving to be clean.

So unlike ‘the Grove’.

In the end, some people came who ‘used to be in a nearby encampment’ (we called it ‘Isken-2’). That encampment is no more – the inhabitants have either moved to ‘Isken-1’ or the relatively nearby town of Kirikhan.

It became clear that these late comers are no longer living in the fields, but have come from Kirikhan, and we do not provide for those who are not living in the fields.

In any event, the last bag came off the lorry, so there was no more to give. They didn’t press, which is also an established tell of those who are ‘trying it on’.

We still had some ten or so litres of milk left on the lorry. Normally we would return them to Antakya, and take them out on the next run.

But here, I grabbed the box and gave a litre of milk to each small child I saw until they were gone.

It was a good day. The team will carry on the work in the new year, but it was our last day before we return for our annual sojourn in the United Kingdom.

It was a good mix of encampments.

And, once again, some more lessons for me to learn had come to the fore.

Truly it was a good contrast between the two encampments; one, which you naturally want to help and enjoy, and one, you realise is the neediest of them all and we really need to prioritise and spend time there being loving, caring, gracious, serving, patient, understanding and always being true to who we are in Christ and allowing Him to shine forth in us.

Like this:

Some encampments of Syrian refugee field workers, cease-to-be, they close up shop and disappear in the wet, windy and bleak months of winter.

Good for them.

Living in the fields in winter is not a desirable nor attractive proposition. Life is hard and miserable in summer, and just plain deplorable in winter.

We have been encouraged when we go to provide some assistance to an encampment to find a barren field with just the debris, cast-offs and the detritus left by human habitation that proclaims that there was once an encampment there – but the encampment is no more. They have moved on and maybe, just maybe, to some better place, or, we must confess, sadly, it may be to an equally bleak site somewhere.

This day was our last visit to just such a place. There remains but a few families living in some farm buildings which means that those few remaining will enjoy relatively good accommodation. The main encampment is barren and deserted – workers will return in the spring when field work will again be plentiful.

Those who are remaining in this location, by and large, are dry, secure and have proper sanitation. When there is work, they will work.

However, these remaining Syrian refugee field workers, in spite of the benefits they have, will still be in need. On this, our last trip up the long and prone to being reduced to a hopeless quagmire of a track, our goal was to provide some assistance and to collect their phone numbers. For the remainder of the winter months, we will ring them and then draw nigh to their location – to the closest point where the roadway is sound. They will come to us – farm equipment will happily power through where road vehicles will become well and truly mired.

From there we made our way to the encampment we have named ‘the Grove’ due to the small stand of trees across the road from the encampment; there are no trees or bushes of any description within the actual encampment; it is rather barren.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

This encampment is situated on some high ground. I would not call it a hill, it is just a simple piece of higher ground. It is rocky and would be impossible to farm in its current state. The rocks in this region are large; I mean they are literally gargantuan – they can only be removed with large excavators. The majority of the rocks are buried in the ground, sometimes their heads, sometimes just their shoulders protruding from the soil. Shelters, as best as one can, must be placed around these boulders as they can not be shifted.

On the plus side, this higher, slightly lifted up location, at the very least, will not become a bog in the incessant rains of winter.

And, sadly, it appears that this encampment will be remaining in this remote location over the dark, damp days of winter. The prospects of living in rude shelters, exposed to the wind and rain through the long, dismal days of winter is truly appalling.

The headman in this encampment is from the area in eastern Turkey near the city of Urfa. He is a bilingual Turkish / Arabic speaker and his life occupation has always been a ‘field worker’. He is the headman in this encampment because he is the ‘gang-master’ and the residents of this encampment are his work force.

As the gang-master, he organises the field labour and provides a modicum of the essentials for the workers – it was up to him to find and arrange a place for the workers to pitch their shelters. He also will provide some source of water (often it can simply be a water bowser as in this encampment). I would say in most, not all, but most encampments, the gang-master will arrange a degree of electricity (most often illegally sourced by attaching wires to the passing electrical cables).

The electricity that may be supplied is not properly established. Most frequently you observe wires running over the floor, lying on and through the dirt and puddles. There is no fuse box or circuit breaker. Wires can be spliced together and protected from the elements and curious children with whatever tape-like material is to hand, even sellotape. I suppose if the wires get too hot and burn up, then that will function as a rudimentary fuse… of sorts…

wires in the dirt

It is up to the residents in the encampment to construct simple out-houses and some kind of structure to bathe in. The bathing structure will have a dirt floor as everything else has, but the tarpaulin will be stretched around and over to afford a degree of privacy to have a rudimentary sponge bath. For the winter months, they also manufacture some primitive shelters to act as kitchens.

We arrived at the Grove, and, as I have been doing recently, I did not drive into the encampment proper, but rather chose to stay on the roadway. The road at the entrance is wide enough for us to set up on the far side, and traffic – traffic is rather infrequent on this passageway – can easily pass by on the remaining side. The residents of the encampment come and stand in the road, hence not in the mud, for the distribution.

The lorry reversed up to the van and hence the vehicles were back to back. This created a separated area for the team to work in. This space together in concert with the simple barriers we bring with us, forms a division between those who are waiting to receive some assistance and the team who are organising and distributing the provision.

Separate from the regular food-stuffs distribution and as the result of some special gifts being provided, we have been enabled to give the children some milk or fruit drinks and a sweet snack.

We have been doing this at each encampment.

But this encampment is different.

This encampment is fundamentally and dramatically different.

The gang-master in this encampment tends to be an ill-tempered, peevish, quarrelsome individual. We witnessed at an earlier time, in a different location, this gang-master physically assaulting a man who he thought needed being put in his place. In all the time we have been engaged in this work, this was the one time where we have observed a fight, a brawl between two men.

This gang-master can be pleasant, but he can be bellicose, petty and, well, short-tempered and grouchy.

It must be said, he is not short-tempered or grouchy toward us; with us he tends to try to manipulate and use us, he tries to get more for himself and his greater family – oh, and also for his Syrian refugee field workers. He is not above lying to our faces, or saying that someone is no longer in the encampment, when they are still in residence. It appears he has done this in the past in order to deprive them of the assistance.

However, it must be remembered that the gang-master is the gate-keeper of the encampment. If we do not make an effort to work with him, he may deny us access to his encampment and the Syria refugee field workers in that encampment; he can be petty, and then it will be the adults, the children and the babies who will suffer…

Today this most bellicose and quarrelsome of gang-masters, was present along with his brother, also a gang-master, and it would appear that they have brought their two different groups of workers together, to this one location, to winter there together.

Sometimes brothers can be very different, but in this case, it is glaringly obvious that they are two peas in a pod. They resemble each other in their looks and mannerisms. And it seems, they resemble each other in temperament. It is apparent they have had hard lives, and the scars on their bodies and more importantly on their personalities is patently evident. Of all the people in the encampment, that is, 197 individuals of which there are 65 children under ten and 18 babies, they were the only two who walked about with sticks, functioning as truncheons, in their hands.

In the past they have brought their separate groups of Syrian refugee field workers together to winter together in one place. In fact, when they this did this a few years ago, at one location, it was felt by the local Turkish village that they were too close to the village and they were rejected and ejected – the villagers required them to relocate.

Yes, the Muslim villagers told the Muslim gang-masters, and the Muslim refugees to depart.

Their current location, situated on some higher ground, is at a distance from any other habitation… so the chances of this happening again are diminished.

wet kitchen

I took a quick tour of the encampment, and there are many more people and shelters there than before – indeed it is self-apparent that the other brother has brought his Syrian refugee work force to winter here. This location is now roughly twice the size it was previously.

In the course of my walking tour, I also noted the gang-masters’ shelters. Yes, the gang-masters frequently live in the encampment with their charges.

I immediately recognised the gang-master’s shelters as they had liberally spread fresh, clean, large stone gravel under and around their shelters. No mud for them. The rain can drain nicely away and their shelter will be dry within. I even noted that they had placed wooden pallets inside their shelters, raising them off the floor and providing a healthier environment to pass the winter months.

Not so the other shelters surrounding theirs. They are pitched on the raw earth, hence dampness within the shelters is guaranteed.

As I mentioned, previously, this encampment, that is both the gang-master and the residents, had proven to be a bit of a challenge. We especially encountered difficulties when we attempted to have some activities with the children.

The Team have been going out once a week and playing with the children, organised games, painting, fun things for children that have experienced precious few ‘fun things’. We have provide milk and something to eat as well.

For most encampments this has been a very positive, pleasant experience.

Sadly, even I have noticed that the children in this encampment are all exceptionally filthy. In all of the encampments, all the children are dirty. This is not surprising after all, as there is no proper washing facilities in any of the encampments. But here, in this one, they were dirty to the extreme; clothes, hair, arms, hands, faces were all grimy beyond measure.

Today, as we set about our planned provision of assistance, we also made ready to give the children the special juice boxes together with a sweet treat.

Now, as we do at other encampments, we attempted to line the children up to receive the juice boxes and sweet treat.

In all the other encampments, once the line is established, we begin at the head of the line, and the line slowly advances towards us and all receive their portion in good time and all are happy; no one is left out, no one has extra.

Here, the children, and not a few aggressive mums with babes in their arms, seemed content to line up in a semblance of a line…

…that is until…

….until the juice boxes and sweets came forth.

Then the nicely formed line instantly dissolved, it disintegrated and all broke free and set siege to the two hapless young foreigners whose only crime was to be the ones holding the prize, the juice boxes and treats.

They were surrounded and besieged – children and some quite demanding, aggressive mums – with a thicket of out stretched arms coming at them from all angles accompanied by a cacophony of cries to give to me, to me, to me and the insistent, pleading, whining of the mums. All the while other hands were striving to snatch and steal their prizes from the boxes in the embrace of the foreigners…

The two young people were immediately overwhelmed and forced back four or five metres to the side of the lorry where they abandoned the task as impossible to do in an orderly, organised and fair way. The box of chocolate bars was desperately cast up onto the lorry, the box of juice boxes was pirated safely away.

In advance, I knew it would be difficult to give the juice boxes and sweets to the children in this encampment.

The previous time we attempted to do this, it was bad, not as bad as this, but it was bad. It, too, had ended in a premature cessation of distribution of juice boxes and sweets to the children as the swarm of children was rapidly descending into an unruly, riotous mob.

True confession time: on the last visit, I was attempting to distribute the juice boxes after the main attempt had failed, and my phone rang, it was the wife of our interpreter. Whilst I was suitably distracted, one determined little chap reached up and tore a juice box from within the box that I was holding protectively in my grasp… needless to say, being engaged on the phone, I was caught unawares and I automatically responded in an instinctive, natural, way and I immediately relieved the young thief of the pilfered juice box.

I was angry.

What can I say?

There was and is no excuse for my response!

I really felt bad for the wife of the interpreter who I was speaking with, when suddenly there was a loud exclamation and my attention became solely focused on dealing with my small thief. I felt bad for the lady on the phone, but, I confess, I did not feel bad for the young lad who had his prize in his hand only to have it forcibly snatched from his grasp.

Now to compound my un-Godly response, I made matters worseas later on, when I was able to achieve a more orderly distribution, that is, ‘orderly for this encampment’, of the juice boxes and sweets, and he presented himself to receive something, I specifically, knowingly, and on purpose, looked him in the eye and did NOT give him any.

This was my so-called ‘just’ response to his unsuccessful grasping theft. I am ashamed as I recount this event.

Where is Grace?

Where is forgiveness?

Where is compassion?

Where is love?

Where is a modicum of understanding of the situation he finds himself cast in?

Where indeed…

After the fact, I felt stricken in spirit for my callous and so-called ‘righteous’ response – the response of justice and law…fully ignoring grace, love and compassion.

And for me, as one who was fully undeserving of the Grace of God, the Love of God, the Mercy of God, I, who have ‘tasted and seen that the Lord is good’ to react in this way is a travesty of all that God has done for me – far more selfish and undeserving than that young lad had exhibited.

Again, my response and actions were far more selfish and undeserving than that young lad had exhibited.

He was desperate. He is actively living in truly appalling conditions of deprivation, hunger and suffering… and what is my excuse?

That was on our previous visit, this time I was determined not to make the same error. Mistakes are made, but, we can learn from them.

And this time it was far, far worse than the previous, difficult and contrary time.

Seeing the failure of the two young people to execute the distribution of the ‘special juice boxes and sweet treats’ for the children, I, once again, waded in to the fray, grabbing the juice boxes from the shaken young man. I was determined to effect some kind of distribution – gracious distribution – in spite of their rambunctious and riotous behaviour.

I forged into the teeming mass of the dirty, the neglected, the desperate children. Arms were vigorously, aggressively thrust up at me from all angles, voices cried out to gain my attention, the box in my arms was under constant, determined assault and I attempted to execute a gracious form of distribution.

As I was giving the juice boxes, I was aiming to prioritise the wee ones, the small, the weak, the ones unable to overcome their neighbour – and then I witnessed a larger child wrench the juice box from the grasp of the smaller child, I promptly wrenched it back and gave it to the smaller child – and then I gave the offender, the selfish bully, a juice box.

Why? Because of Grace, that is the unmerited, unearned, undeserved favour or blessing. Did he deserve it? No – but to get what you deserve is ‘justice’, not ‘grace’.

Scripture does not say in vain, love your enemies, bless them, do good to them… it does not make this conditional on their repentance or a change in their behaviour.

If your ‘enemy’ is thirsty, give him drink, if hungry, feed him.

It is rather straight forward and it is not difficult to understand. Sometimes we declare it difficult to do, but it is not difficult to understand – and these are the words of our Lord Jesus Christ.

The children (and a few aggressive mums) behaved as a rapacious horde of barbarians intent on taking and plundering and we strove to give them something to drink and something, special even, to eat.

In the course of this mini-distribution, I recognised my little thief from the previous time, still behaving as is his wont, as he has been taught and trained by all those around him, and I deliberately looked him in the eye, a look of recognition, and gave him a juice box.

There was one point where I bellowed. Oh, and I can be quite loud.

Regrettably, I have observed that more often than not, I can come across as angry, cross, upset. Truly, I am not, nor is it my intention. Actually, it is the furthest thing from my actually feelings. But, alas, it is how I am commonly perceived.

Nevertheless, in this situation I bellowed, knowingly. I was not upset. I was not angry. I was not frustrated.

What did I bellow?

Well, it was a bellow, a “AAAahhaHHHaa” like sound… they do not know English or Turkish, and I do not know Arabic, and my intention was to make a distraction in the raging mayhem.

There was an immediate, short-lived, positive effect in that they slowed down their physical assault on me. I was able to continue in my distribution.

But, soon, it was more than I could sustain and I had to bring it to a premature close. The aggressive ones were coming again and again, demanding, pleading, stretching forth their arms or attempting to snatch from the box in my embrace.

Some of the children received juice boxes and sweets, and many did not and some possessed more than their share.

Maybe next time we need to have several people doing the distribution, and dividing the horde – that way more, and more of the most vulnerable, will receive a wee blessing. Or, maybe, we should endeavour to include it with the food-stuffs, as part of the regular distribution.

Back at the van there were children who came and persistently begged, wheedled, connived and otherwise tried to gain possession of the treats.

Some of the children tried to force open the locked window in the van to gain possession of the treats. They were discouraged from this activity on several occasions. Finally I posted one of our foreign helpers to simply stand before the door to bring an end to these assaults on the vehicle.

This was proving to be a very difficult distribution, especially as we were dealing with a less than trustworthy gang-master, and the corporate conniving, lying, cheating, and grasping adults of the encampment only compounded matters.

Consequently, the distribution was taking a disproportionate amount of time and, with the passage of time, the door minder left his post by the vehicle.

The ever diligent and watchful children immediately launched another attempt on the window. They were able to force it fully open… and caused some damage in the process… for it was locked shut.

However, even opening the window did not put the prize within their grasp.

Once again I returned, and on my coming, the guilty parties became conspicuous by their absence and I was able to get the window shut.

In addition to those intent on assaulting the window, there was one little one who was conniving to get a juice box and sweet. Rather than getting angry, I would pick them up and cart them away from the distribution area, as you would your own child or more like your own grandchild where you indulge them and smile and have them smile as you truck them away.

More than juice boxes and sweets these children are yearning for some attention. They will take attention in any form, a shout, a slap, a smack with a stick, but of course, positive, non-violent attention is the pearl of great price.

I’m not about to beat anyone, nor shout at them in anger (been there, done that, repented) nor threaten physical violence upon them. I will scoop them up and in a positive manner, remove them from the immediate area.

So, now this wee one, trying to finagle a juice box or sweet, had a new game. They would come, I would pick them up, swing them happily about, and cart them away. Sometimes they would beat me back to the distribution area to start the process all over again.

Being in close proximity means there is a danger of head lice being transmitted – but they are more valuable and special than the danger and inconvenience of head lice.

The distribution at this encampment was not a pleasant experience for any in the team.

And on our departure, after fully completing our distribution (everyone receiving their allotted portion), one lady ran up to the reversing lorry, grabbed a bag of food-stuffs, and hoisted the bag, about ten kilos of basic food stuffs, out of the back, and made off with it. Our minder, from the local Social Assistance Department, was there, helping the lorry driver reverse and he tried to prevent her – to no avail.

In my experience, this has NEVER happened at any of the other encampments we have gone to over the course of the three years we have been going out among the fields to assist these refugees.

As we put this encampment firmly in the rear-view mirror, there was a general feeling of relief and also a palpable degree of exasperation…

It was striking that even our lorry driver, who acts and strives to a ‘part of the team’ – on that day he even joined our prayer time before headed out for the day – was of the opinion that we should ‘zero’ the whole encampment. ‘Zero’ is what we do when we make someone ‘inactive’ – historically this has always been due to their moving away.

And so an emotional, natural response would be to ‘zero’ the whole encampment due to their manner of behaviour, their lying, their cheating, their aggressive attitude, their demanding actions and the general, casual violence from the gang-master downwards to the smallest child.

It is a natural, human response to feel that “they are not worthy”.

We can easily compare them to other encampments where, for example, on the very same day, something fell from the vehicle and a child standing nearby swooped in to scoop it up and return it to its rightful place in the vehicle – he was striving to assist and help us. And again, on the same day, a young child was offered a juice box and they responded by saying they had already received theirs and went on their way.

It is very easy, very natural, to conclude that this encampment has declare themselves a pariah encampment – justifiably worthy to be avoided.

It would be so easy to declare that this particular encampment is too difficult, too hard to try and provide anything to them because of their contrary, aggressive, grasping behaviour. Indeed, as we go from encampment to encampment, if anyone will lie, and it can happen in other places, but it will definitely happen here; if anyone will attempt to present twice for provision, which can happen in other encampments, it will happen here, and, as we witnessed, if someone will steal out of the lorry, this simply has not happened in any other encampment, but it has happened here. Indeed, I think is is fair to say that if we looked, we could find another encampment which would be far easier to work with.

The natural, earned and deserved response, is to write off this difficult and contrary encampment – to ‘zero’ them, to leave them to their own devices, to avoid them like the plague, to treat them as the pariah they declare themselves to be…

That is the natural, human response, and what is the appropriate response from God’s perspective?

Let us recall that the world was at total, absolute enmity with God.

We, everyone, each of us, were going our own individual ways.

We declared, that is each and everyone of us, declared ourselves to be as ‘god’ in our lives – that is, the final authority in our lives. We lived according to our thoughts, our plans, our desires and our passions. We purported to be masters of our own fate, living, planning, executing, solving problems according to our own understanding and desires. The last word in our lives was from ourselves, our desires, our will – that which we determined.

And today our world is filled with sexual harassment (and worse), warring, killing, maiming, hurting, enslaving, cheating, abusing, using, harming, boasting, strutting and all the while mankind is making like all is well in our world.

We, each and every one of us, deserved and earned the right to reap that which we had so plentifully sowed.

God was under absolutely no compulsion to intervene.

God was not forced to make a way of ‘salvation’ and to offer it to any who would desire it.

God was not required to make a provision to enable undeserving man a way, a means to renew and re-establish a relationship with Almighty God – but He did.

But He did…

He, by an act of His free will, expressed His Love, His Mercy and His Grace and provided for us that, which we did not, by any definition, remotely deserve.

God Almighty did this whist we were active enemies of God, being proud, arrogant, going our own ways with no thought nor regard for the Creator God, while we were in this state, God sent His one and only Son into the world that through Him we might have Life and Life to the full.

And, as those who have received this free gift of life, even eternal life in Christ, those who have been reconciled to God through the finished work alone of the Lord Jesus Christ, we have now been given the ministry of reconciliation, whereby we call our fellow man to be reconciled to God, and as scripture says, we are called to make our calling sure, and to be productive in our knowledge of the Lord Jesus Christ; we are exhorted to put behind us the ‘old man’ and ‘its natural responses’ and to be re-made into the image of Christ, reflecting God’s values and God’s Love, God’s Grace, God’s Mercy and the Character of God in our lives.

Therefore, what then, can be our response to this rather contrary and difficult encampment, this encampment which will, naturally, experience rejection and be reviled by all in the world?

I can hear some voices articulating that, “Surely they must learn the consequences of their actions – how else will they learn and change…”

In other words, just like God left us to our fate, to the natural consequences of our actions that we might learn and change….

Except He didn’t!

He intervened, and He Himself established an example, sending His only Son, Jesus, who came teaching and then by sacrificing Himself, He completed and made a way that we may be fully reconciled with God. Through the Lord Jesus Christ, we, fallen, sinful, rebelling, proud and arrogant mankind may know God, learn directly from God and receive the Power of God to enable us to overcome temptation and sin in our lives, empowering us to live good, productive, clean, wholesome, pure, honest, lives with integrity.

Jesus, the Son of God, sacrificed Himself that we might live – and He calls us to follow Him, to be like Him, and, yes, to sacrifice ourselves that others might live…

I am convinced that this encampment should take the Number One place in our hearts – not because the people are so pleasant and such a delight to assist, not because they are a pleasure to be about, but, truly, because they, more than all the others, need to see the Love of God, the Grace of God, the Mercy of God lived out among them.

And how will they see and experience this?

God has called each one of us, He has given to each and every one of His children the ministry of Reconciliation. In fact the Lord Jesus Christ has declared that each and every one of His children are Light and Salt in this world.

People – and the people in this encampment – will only see the revelation of God, if we go, if we love, if we serve, if we forgive, if we are gracious, if we are compassionate, if we are patient, if we persevere, if we are kind and if we come back again and again and again… and give them that which they do not deserve.

Just as God has done in each and everyone of our lives to call us and bring us from our darkness to His light, from death to life, from slavery to my passions and desires to full freedom, so we need to be available to do the same for those we encounter.

I feel that this encampment needs to be our Number One encampment because of all the encampments we serve, they need the message, the testimony, that Almighty God loves the world, the whole world, including them and He has done all that is required that mankind, each and every one of us, regardless of who we are or what we have done, can know Him.

It is my conviction that this encampment needs to be our Number One because of all the encampments we serve, their need is the greatest.

All the encampments have a shared need of physical assistance.

All the encampments have a shared need to see and to know the Love of God.

All the encampments have the same needs; they are shared among them all.

But of all the encampments we serve,

this encampment is the darkest,

it is the dirtiest,

it has the most violence against the weakest members of their own encampment.

The only hope for them is the Good News.

The only hope for them is to know God.

The only hope for them is for them to taste and see that God is good.

The only hope for them is to receive the Grace of God, the unmerited, unearned, undeserved favour of God.

How will they know any of this if we, His children, write them off and avoid them as the plague, rejecting them, as they clearly deserve to be rejected, and if we abandon them to their chosen path and their chosen fate…

One thing has been glaringly apparent from the beginning is the people we are seeking to demonstrate the Love of God to, are living in the ‘worst days of their lives’.

I have no idea if the ‘best days of their lives’ yet lie before them, or is now consigned to the rapidity fading past.But these days will be numbered among the worst of their lives.

Having lived through the turmoil of fighting, sometimes as active participants, but more often than not, as the ‘collateral damage’.

It is astonishing how quickly people, in the east, in the west, the uneducated and highly educated come to ‘accept’ the notion of ‘collateral damage’…How quick people can be to accept the deaths of innocents, with the caveat that the truly guilty will be killed in the process.

This provides the so-called justification to all combatants,“We were not aiming at the innocents who died, but at a leader, a master-mind, a commander, a enemy fighter… whoever…” This becomes the vindication which is used by all sides in the conflict.

We come face to face with the survivors. We seek to show forth God’s love to people who have suffered, not ‘theoretically’, but personally, the reality of being ‘collateral damage’.These are those who have lost loved ones, who have been bombed out of their homes and bombed out of their livelihoods.Some will have had sympathies for the rebels, others may indeed have been numbered in their ranks, but many, many others began as victims of the regime and then victims of the rebels and then victims of the major powers as they battle on behalf of their surrogates.There is blood on so many hands, and we deal with those who have suffered under their hands.

As the adult members, or the ‘surviving’ adult members, of the families strive to cope, to deal with the aftermath of the violent events which has rendered such devastating impact on their lives, as they flee and try and provide for their families – they, at least, have the potential to understand, to deal with, to grapple with these events.

Children can not begin to fathom why their worlds are torn asunder, why they go hungry, why they go thirsty, why they must travel in inclement weather, why they end up living in a barren, dusty, field, with no running water, no washroom, living in a shelter which is unbearably hot in summer and intolerably cold in winter.They are ill-equipped to grasp why they have no shoes, nor proper clothes.They have no understanding why instead of play, they are required to become full time ‘child minders’ at an age that in western countries, they would be required by law to havechild minders.They are at a loss to comprehend why their parents and older siblings leave them in the morning and then return, filthy dirty and dead tired in the evening.They can not reason why, when their loved ones, their parents, their siblings return they are exhausted and short-tempered.They struggle to make sense of why they are not cuddled, or played with or why no one has time for them.

However, we have observed how profoundly resilient children are.In spite of their hardships, in spite of their very ‘grown up’ responsibilities, in spite of their harsh living conditions, in spite of the deprivation they must endure, in spite of being ignored by those from whom they naturally expect love, in spite of harsh words and a slap in the place of loving words and a cuddle, they cope remarkably well.

For me, a 64 year old, white haired foreigner, to bring joy and happiness to the children all I have to do is smile and shake their wee hands and greet them in Turkish (a language they do not understand).Their faces beam with joy, and they return again and again to ‘shake my hand’ and receive a smile.

There are always the shy ones, looking on at the joy of their peers, but unable to join in.When you offer your hand to them, they, often, shyly hide, they move behind their friend or sibling, but, looking over their shoulder… and then, tentatively, they reach out, and you respond and smile and shake their hand.

They blossom before your eyes, they return the smile, and, then return to shake hands once again, and again, receiving a smile and interacting happily with an adult.They join in with the throng of wee, smiling faces, extending their hands for a shake.

In no time you will find yourself surrounded by a swarm of wee children whose only desire is a brief moment of normalcy, of joy and happiness without responsibility, without being reprimanded, of a few moment of childish play with an adult.

The children can become very possessive – jealous even.They do not want to share their ‘tame adult’ with anyone else.

Is it any wonder then, that when we arrive – our vehicle is easily recognised – that the children surge forward engulfing us.As the adults gather, they reprimand the children – sometimes with harsh words, sometimes with a clip over the ear, sometimes using a switch, they drive the children off, sending them scurryingaway. For the adults, our arrival is important, if not life-giving it is at least life-sustaining.For them this is the priority and they do not desire that the children inhibit this important, essential work of distributing the food stuffs…

Nevertheless, having been thusly driven off, the children quietly sneak back, hold a hand here, stand near there – seeking that quiet, loving interaction that allows them to be children again.

Occasionally, we do bring sweets for the children, but it is not for the sweets they come.That is an extra – and only now and then.They seek out and long for the loving interaction.

We have had visiting groups that have come out on the distribution run with the express purpose of spending time with the children at each encampment.They take time to organise and play games and sing songs.The children love it.Even the most shy, those who stand at a distance, gazing longingly on, but feeling unable to join in, are touched.And sometimes, they are emboldened to join in.

Once, it was a Norwegian group if memory serves, who played and sang, oddly in English, children’s songs.One such song involved the eating of a banana.The children had no notion whatsoever what the song entailed.But these bouncy, smiley, happy girls, sang and did the actions and the children absolutely loved it.

When people are living at their lowest, in the ‘worst of times’, a little can bring disproportionate joy and happiness.

And when you think you have seen all the suffering encompassed in our groups, you stumble upon those whose ‘worst of times’ is profoundly, disturbingly, absolutely atrocious.

A week ago, our Turkish brother, who speaks Arabic and Turkish, and I went out to do a quick survey to see if there were any great changes in the number and make up of the encampments.

At the first encampment we stopped at, we noticed a change in the number of shelters and that the shelters were different than those we had seen previously – hence a new group was at this site.

Several individuals immediately came up to the vehicle and implored us to come and “see a very sick child” – a desperate situation they declared.

People tend to speak using very hyperbolic terms – so you never really know what the reality is or what to expect.

The Turkish brother alighted to do a quick count of shelters and in the process see the ‘sick child’.

He came back to the van visibly shaken, asking for ‘moist wipes’.He promptly and diligently, cleaned his hands.The people were pressing him for help.

What can we do?… We said we would be back, and departed.

What he saw was a child who came into this world normally, with ten fingers and ten toes.

Now, however, his legs and arms are covered in open, weeping sores, and all his fingers and all his toes have fallen off…..

…….

It would appear, between our observation of his current state, some brief research on the internet, and a dose of presumption, that the child appears to be suffering from leprosy.

This is a profoundly emotive word, describing an absolutely appalling disease.This is a word that carries a deep, inflammatory, emotional content… it is inherently terrifying…

Now this is well beyond our capacity to deal with.None of us have any medical training.

Six days later, in the course of our distribution we made it our first priority to stop at this encampment, to, again see the child, the Turkish leader of this work having expressly desired to see for herself.

She returned to the van, shocked… and deeply moved…

She immediately made phone calls, there and then, to the appropriate health departments and received the classic bureaucratic run around. “We don’t deal with this, you need to ring…”, “No, we don’t do that, you need to talk to…” and so on… As is so often the case, because people generally speak using hyperbolic terms, nothing is taken at face value, and little is believed.

As the mobile telephone reception was not good, we continued with our distribution.The child and his desperate situation never far from our thoughts.

First thing on our return to Antakya, and even though absolutely worn out and tired by the day’s activities, the leader of the work went to the provincial Health department. There she was not meeting with much success.Then she showed the photos of the child to the security guards, who immediately made calls.The result of these calls was the Director himself made time to see her.She explained what she had seen and ‘shared’ the photos she had taken with him.She also provided directions to where and in which field this encampment is located.The Director said they would immediately do something.

That was yesterday afternoon.

This morning she received word from the Director that they had gone out, and seen the child.They are taking full responsibility for his care and treatment.

They have determined that he is not suffering from leprosy, but a skin disease like it, which has resulted in the loss of his fingers and toes.They made a point to expressly saying that the child is receiving treatment and they will do whatever is necessary for him.They also explicitly stated that they have taken full responsibility for his treatment.

We praise the Lord for this outcome.

And yet with a deep, brooding sadness.

If there had been no war, if the family had not have had to flee, if the medical system in Syria had continue to function, then, most likely, this child would have been treated at a very early stage and would not now be reduced to this state.Now, his life will never be the same.

I have no idea what his dreams were, if he had any, but now, many occupations, activities, hobbies and such, are denied him – having lost all his fingers and toes.

He can have a full and happy life – but always in the context of one who has been seriously disabled through a sickness, exacerbated by war.